


Compass Point

by Natalya



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Captain America: The Winter Soldier Spoilers, Domestic, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, M/M, Post-Captain America: The First Avenger, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-27
Updated: 2014-04-27
Packaged: 2018-01-21 00:26:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1531208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Natalya/pseuds/Natalya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Steve gets in exhausted from a mission he notices that there's something new about Bucky.  </p><p>Later the tables are turned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Compass Point

The sun was dipping below the horizon as Steve walked back into the apartment. He’d been away for a week now, halfway across the world, and he was tired. The kind of bone tired weariness that wasn’t just physical, that went deeper than that. He put his shield by the door and kicked off his shoes, hearing movement in the bedroom letting him know that Bucky was home. He rubbed one hand across his face, a slight smile beginning to tug at his lips as he felt the tension of the last few days beginning to seep away from him. 

He strolled through to the bedroom, knowing damn well that Bucky would have heard him and paused in the doorway. Bucky was there, back to the door, obviously fresh out of the shower, towelling off his hair, clad in nothing but a pair of jeans. Steve leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest as he watched, eyes drawn to the smooth motion of muscle under pale skin, the way the warm orange, red and gold glow of the sunset washed over him, reflecting from the dully gleaming metal of his arm. 

Steve’s fingers itched for his sketchbook and pencils, something to capture the image. 

“Enjoyin’ the view?” Bucky’s voice broke the silence, low and warm, holding a hint of amusement as he turned to face Steve, a familiar smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. It was a smile that reached his eyes and if it had been a damn long road for them to both get to this point, then moments like that in Steve’s mind made it all worth it. 

“Could say that.” He replied, his gaze drawn inexorably towards the tattoo that adorned Bucky’s ribs on his right hand side. “That’s new.” 

Bucky’s smile flickered for an instant and he gave a one shouldered shrug. “Yeah. Got it the day you left for Italy.” There was something in his tone, something that Steve couldn’t quite place, something that was almost hesitant, uncertain, hidden beneath the nonchalant tone. 

He crossed the space between them, Bucky lifting his arm so that Steve could get a better look. 

The image was in black and greyscale, beautifully rendered. Steve reached out, running his fingers lightly across it. He could appreciate the artistry, the way that it had been done. It was a compass, old fashioned, familiar to him. He looked to a point just above the north of the compass, seeing a number there. 

For a second he felt like the air had been sucked from his lungs and he touched it feeling almost as though the numbers were burning into him. He looked up at Bucky who was watching him intently, as though awaiting some kind of judgement. 

He swallowed hard, straightening up, his gaze travelling once again to the artwork, now obscured where Bucky had lowered his arm. 

“That’s my serial number.” He stated, voice low, shaking slightly. 

Bucky nodded, a half smile curving his lips. “Yeah, you always have been my North, Steve.” He stated quietly, nothing but honesty in his voice, raw and open. 

Steve chuckled, feeling a wave of emotion wash over him as he looked at Bucky, seeing the expression in his grey eyes. He opened his mouth to speak but Bucky just shook his head, pulling him in close, kissing him soundly. 

“I love it.” Steve murmured as they broke apart, looking again at the tattoo that Bucky had now got, marked with his serial number. 

He may have been Bucky’s north, but Bucky had always been his home. He moved back slightly, letting Bucky pull on a t-shirt, finish getting dressed. “I love you.” 

Bucky chuckled, low and filled with genuine amusement, the sound flowing through Steve in a way that hadn’t changed since the 30s. “Yeah? I love you too and you know it, my ribs are a testament to it now as well.” 

“The serum doesn’t stop it from taking then?” Steve asked, something forming in his mind that he wasn’t quite ready to let on about. 

“Just heals faster.” Replied Bucky, head on one side, eyes narrowed slightly. “What are you thinkin’?” 

Steve shook his head. “Nothing.” He replied, a grin curving his lips. “I’m beat. And hungry as hell.” 

“Got leftovers in the fridge.” Bucky allowed him to change the subject, not pursuing whatever it was that was running through Steve’s head. 

“Can’t beat it.” Retorted Steve, heading back through to the kitchen, with Bucky half a pace behind. 

It wasn’t until a couple of months later when Bucky walked back into the apartment, fresh off his own mission in the depths of Russia that he realised just what Steve had been thinking about. He stood stock still in the doorway, looking at where Steve was stood in the kitchen, cooking spaghetti bolognaise, wearing only a pair of trousers book in one hand, reading as he stirred. 

In the matching place on Steve’s ribs there were dog tags. Detailed and exquisitely done. He stepped closer, shaking his head as he inspected them. He felt a sudden weight settle in his chest, a warm weight that seemed to envelope him. He straightened up and looked at Steve. “Punk.” He murmured. 

“Jerk.” Steve’s reply made him laugh, still shaking his head as he kissed him soundly.  
On one of the tags was his serial number. 

The other read simply - ‘til the end of the line. 

The End.


End file.
